Page 6 of First Down Promise

“Fuck off. I have a few seasons left in me. At least two more in my back for sure.”

Pete’s shoulders shift with a silent laugh. “Keep your chiropractor on speed dial.” He’s teasing, but that’s not a bad idea.

I raise my eyebrows. “You know who I’m worried about?”

“Dane?”

“Yeah, we said we’d retire together, but I don’t know, man.”

“Josh, he’s two years younger than you,” Pete argues.

“Yeah, but a few more hard hits, and he’s cooked.”

My shoulders drop, and I rub my hand down my face. Five seasons with Dane so far, and I’m not ready for the big guy to retire. Hell, I might play until they have to take me out of a game on a stretcher, but realistically, the clock is ticking on both of us. Probably Coop too, even though he’s the youngest of our tight-knit group. Center is a brutal position, with Coop basically acting like a wall on every play.

“Ugh, Pete! I tried it on. It’s awful!” Abby’s voice calls from upstairs. I crane my neck to glance toward the stairs at the sound of her angelic voice.

“Come on, Ab. Can’t be that bad,” Pete projects.

I twist back to face Pete. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Girly shit,” he chuckles.

Soft footsteps sound on the stairs, and I glance over my shoulder to take in Abby, wearing less than I’ve ever seen on her. Even in the summer, she’d wear a one-piece swimsuit. It’s the official cheer uniform, fitted perfectly to her. I shift my hips on the barstool to give my neck a break.

Holy fucking airball.

Abby’s in a cropped halter top that might as well be a bra, and the miniest skirt they could find that probably doesn’t cover her bottom all the way. The uniform is in our signature black with gold details. Most of her torso is exposed, with a gold belly button ring in the middle of her toned stomach that matches her uniform too well. I huff out a breath. Why doesn’t she show that off?

She gasps as we make eye contact and darts her gaze away, swooping her caramel hair over her shoulder to offer some covering over her chest. Abby has boobs? I mean, of course she does, but the top pushes them up so much it must be uncomfortable.

“That’s what the cheerleaders wear?” Pete asks, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull in that protective brother way. I want to give him shit because they’ve always worn this sort of thing, and he just never paid attention because he knows it’s forbidden. But now, his sister is one of them.

“Yes!” she answers quickly. I don’t even notice the satin robe she has in her hand until she shrugs it on. I take one last glance at her before Pete catches me as she fastens the tie at her waist.

“How am I supposed to wear this in front of a stadium full of people? And on live TV?” she asks with wide eyes. The first time I saw her gray eyes, they threw me off. Pete’s are unique, too: hazel or light brown depending on the lighting. But hers? Mesmerizing.

He scratches the side of his head. “Dude, I don’t know. Kind of kicking myself for telling you about tryouts.” I tap my fingers on the counter. If he’s not going to reassure her that she looks beautiful, I will. I turn toward her again, draping my arm over the back of the barstool.

“You look great. Seriously. You’re going to make the other cheerleaders jealous,” I add, keeping my eyes on her face, and I can feel Pete shooting metaphorical daggers at my back. If looks could kill…

She gulps. “Really?”

“Yeah, and if it makes you feel better, you’ll be with the other girls. Us players aren’t allowed to look at the cheerleaders.”

She draws her eyebrows together, creating a small crease between them. “Why?”

I just shrug to downplay the truth. “Because your job is to amp up the crowd.” I gesture between myself and Pete with my thumb. “Our job is to stay locked in and win.” I turn my head back to look at Pete. “Unless it’s preseason,” I joke.

A small smile crosses his face. “Right.”

“Well, I’m gonna change. No need to keep this abomination on for now,” she says, tapping her nails against the railing. They’re always done—something she started after moving here. I think getting them done is Pete’s way of treating her, and she always opts for a soft oval shape in a neutral color. I thought darker tones suited her fair skin best.

“We’re ordering burgers. Text me if you want anything,” Pete calls after her.

“Okay,” she replies, heading up the stairs.

I swivel back around to face Pete fully. “Sorry, thought she needed…”